Quicquid
by anonymouth
Summary: 34 stories; 34 people; 34 loves found, lost, never told, never accepted. Chap 3 M rated. Bellatrix/Narcissa, warning included inside. NEW: Chap 4. Fred/Blaise
1. clam SeverusLucius

~_written for the challenge Your Goal: 34 Stories, Our Gift: 106 reviews ~_

_Overall Romance_

Disclaimer: Anything I don't own, isn't mine.

**_-Round 1: Severus Snape/Lucius Malfoy-_**

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><p><strong>Clam<strong> (secretly, in secret)

You had felt his eyes on you all through the meeting. The Dark Lord had left the premises, but you still felt an oppressive weight upon you that for once had nothing to do with the overall gloom of Malfoy Manor. Slowly, you turned your head to meet the force of his glare, and though you did not show it, you were marginally surprised when he did not look away. Evidently the man's confidence level was intricately tied to a certain presence.

You stood and pushed your chair in, before nodding sharply at the few who caught your eye and heading to the room assigned to your potions.

You knew you could not relax there; could not relax anywhere, but the room, the contents, were familiar to you and you allowed the calming atmosphere to at least relieve some of the tension you held in your shoulders. Tension that soon increased twofold when you heard the door creak and out of the corner of your eye you saw a streak of white against the overall grayness of the room that could only belong to one person.

"Is there some part of The Dark Lord's instruction that you do not understand, Lucius? Something that I could clear up for you?"

You saw his mouth twitch at the barely concealed insult. He walked around you, seemingly intently examining a shelf of your potions. He was behind you, but you did not move to face him, even when you felt his breath on your shoulder.

"I saw you, at the meeting."

You bit back the sarcastic retort that came instantly to you and instead said nothing, knowing that he wasn't about to complement you on your fine diplomatic skills.

"I saw you...Severus...staring."

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, wishing that he would get to the point. You knew he was looking for any sign of emotion from you, so you carefully kept your features schooled into a mask of indifference, rather than the increasing annoyance that you felt.

"I saw you staring at my wife."

This time you barely managed to keep your face straight.

"Answer me, damn you!"

He threw a vial that crashed against the opposite wall, sending a cloud of purple smoke racing for the doorway. You turned your head marginally to face him, felt his shallower breaths on your cheek now, saw the redness of his skin and the small amount of spittle gathered at the corner of his mouth.

"Anyone coming into contact with that will need to see me for an antidote, so if you could refrain from damaging any more of _The Dark Lord's _property."

You inwardly smirked as Lucius paled slightly at your emphasis on His name, but as He was not actually present, it did not take long for him to regain his anger.

"You sat through that meeting, staring at my wife, Snape."

You wondered how Narcissa could put up with him on a daily basis, if his propensity for stating the obvious more than once was thus.

"I know she is attractive, Severus. Want her for yourself, do you? Think you've got more to offer; think that you can lure her away from me...do you?"

You felt his spittle on your cheek but made no move, either to wipe it off or to speak. He moved to stand further in front of you, now, so that you were almost nose to nose. He smiled then, some of the Malfoy cockiness returning to his demeanour.

"You want to know where Narcissa was last night...what she was doing last night?"

Your stomach plummeted slightly, knowing what was coming next. You knew that your face didn't show any different, but Lucius carried on with a renewed sparkle in his eye.

"Make you jealous, does it? Shall I tell you what I was doing to her last night...in _our_ bed?"

He grabbed your face then, your cheeks squeezed between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him.

"I was _fucking my wife _last night, Snape. Every which way. She screamed so hard she broke silencing charms. Screaming _my _name..."

You couldn't have explained to anyone what you were thinking, only that you wanted him to be silent. You grabbed his arm and pushed him backwards with enough force as to send another shelf of vials crashing and clattering to the floor. You stumbled backwards with him, his grip on your face tighter still. You held him against the wall, both of you breathing heavily now.

"Be silent, Malfoy."

Your actions betrayed your feelings, but your voice was as calm and steady as ever. He let go of his vice grip around your face, only to hold his forefinger tight against you cheek.

"Stay the hell away from my wife, Snape, or I swear..."

"You swear what, Lucius?" you almost whispered into his ear, your lips so close to it that you could feel the heat emanating off it. "You'll kill me? Tell on me? Tell The Dark Lord, Lucius. I'm sure he'd be happy to give me your wife, given your recent record. I'm sure I could...please her, just as well."

He roared, and made to lunge at you, but your size concealed the level of your strength and you held him tight against the wall. You managed to rip his hand away from your face and pin his wrist above his head.

"What makes you think it is you I am jealous of? I have no interest in Narcissa. Never have. Leave this be, Lucius, or you'll regret it."

You held him there until you felt him relax slightly, but even then, you kept hold of him for slightly longer. You could feel his leg between yours, his heart beating rapidly almost flush against your own. He was searching your eyes, and you were not sure if could manage to conceal any longer the desire you felt. His eyes widened slightly, and you hoped it was at your words and not your expression.

"Is that a threat?" he asked, his voice almost shaking now.

You again resisted the urge to roll your eyes. What else could it have been construed as?

"Lucius..." you ran your hand down his hair, and let it rest on his cheek, watching his eyes widen in recognition, and perhaps horror. You committed the feeling to memory, never having expected this, and knowing that you'd never again get the chance. You held your lips close to his. "Leave it be." As you spoke, you barely felt the ghost of the touch of his lips. You wanted to stay there, wanted him to say 'no, I will not', wanted him to see, to accept...to touch you without anger. But you didn't...he didn't, and so you pushed away from him, robes billowing about you as you swept from the room, leaving behind your feelings to be banished along with the shattered glass.


	2. amicitia  HermioneLuna

_-Round 2. Hermione Granger/ Luna Lovegood-_

**Amicitia, and Something More**

_She couldn't explain it, anymore than anyone else could. Well, anyone except Luna. Luna...was special. And she supposed that was why, really..._

The first time she came to your rescue, after the War ended, was when you were helping to rebuild Hogwarts. It was the first time you would see certain people since the day after the final Battle. You had attended various funerals, as had others, but you hadn't all been gathered in one place since that day. You didn't know whether others were doing the same as you. You wouldn't bring yourself to call it avoidance, but it hurt - not seeing the ones left, but the gaps left by those who weren't. You had been to the Weasley's - it had been, after all, classed as your home for many years, but even there nothing was the same. The whole family wouldn't be gathered at the same time because...well, it was impossible. People were dealing with their grief in their own way, and solitary moments were the norm for many now.

Harry and Ginny had each other, and you and Ron...you and Ron held each other, sometimes, but never really talked. You listened, when he wanted to mention Fred, but mostly you sat in silence. You didn't talk about Malfoy Manor, or the scars left behind, because it would make him angry, and the only person left to take his anger out on was himself. You refused to be the cause of that. So no one knew how you still woke with horrific nightmares, on the occasions that you managed to fall asleep, and no one knew that the _mudblood_ scar on your arm was still as prominent now as it was when it had first been oh so delicately carved into you. Andromeda Tonks had seen it once, when you had your sleeves rolled up, concentrating intensely on rebuilding a part of Gryffindor Tower. She had touched it, but you pulled away as if burnt, and couldn't meet her concerned gaze. She had lost everything except her grandson in the war, but her face...her face reminded you of loss and pain, and you couldn't deal with the guilt and hurt of looking at the woman. You didn't return to Hogwarts for a while after that, but when you did, you studiously avoided Andromeda and the professors, not sure if she had mentioned the encounter to anyone.

You sat by the Black Lake one day, staring up at the not-quite-ruins, when you felt the air shift, and you tensed, not wanting company. Not wanting to talk.

"Hello Hermione."

You jumped, surprised by the soft lilting voice, and turned to face Luna, who seemed enthralled by a bunch of wriggling plant life that she held gently in her hand.

"Hello Luna."

You knew that your voice sounded weary, and though you didn't want to come across as rude, you hoped that she would pick up on it and leave. She rested on the stone next to you and you sighed, building yourself up to a conversation that your heart wasn't in.

"What are they?" you asked, indicating the rather colourful bunch in her hand.

She smiled softly and laid them down next to you.

"Feeling flowers. But you don't really want to know about them."

You opened your mouth to protest, but you saw the gentle smile on Luna's face and knew that it would be pointless. She just...knew.

"It's ok, Hermione. I understand. So does Andromeda."

You looked surprised, but there was a part of you that knew you shouldn't be. You knew that you, along with everyone else, has always dismissed Luna as slightly...well, Loony, but out of everyone save perhaps Dumbledore, you knew that she always knows and sees far more than she lets on. Perhaps that's why people avoid her, you thought. Because she was always unflinchingly honest, and people were just not used to it.

You raised your eyebrows but didn't say anything.

"I know that you're avoiding her. And you feel guilty about it. You can't change it. Not yet. But you will. Neville had the same thing, but he's unfailingly polite so he wouldn't say anything either."

You laughed at this, wondering if Luna was inadvertently insulting your own manners, but deep down you knew you couldn't take offence. You realised when Luna took your hand and squeezed gently that your laughter had died down, and you were surprised to find tears pooling underneath your eyes.

"Everyone understands, Hermione, you just don't want them to, because you think then that it justifies your actions and you don't want it to because you still want to feel angry. Which makes you feel guilty."

You frowned and despite yourself got drawn in to Luna's logic.

"Why do you think I feel angry?"

"Because you got hurt. Because people you love got hurt. Because if Bellatrix was still around you still wouldn't do the same to her as she did to you, and when you see Andromeda, you want to hurt her as much as her face terrifies you, and then you feel guilty about your reaction to something she can do nothing about."

You opened and closed your mouth, your initial reaction to defend yourself, but then you realised that there really wasn't much defence against the truth. You smirked, definitely convinced that this was the reason that Luna made people uncomfortable, aside from the obvious.

"It's ok, you know." she pushed away from the stone and let go of your hand. "I'll leave you to it now. Andromeda is leaving soon. She hasn't told anyone."

As you watched Luna walk away you wondered...oh so many things. But mostly you wondered how she seemed to know exactly what was going through one's mind, and exactly what to say to make you feel just that little bit better. Because you picked up the flowers that she left behind, and realised that actually, you did.

The second time was about a week after the rebuilding of Hogwarts had finally been completed. There was to be a Ministry function, now that they were also newly reformed. It was to be the first time that everyone would be gathered all together, no exceptions, though you knew that people - including you - had tried. You didn't want to be honoured as part of a trio that had been glorified; knew that others had sacrificed so much more than you ever had. But you had to turn up, and so you went to get ready at the Weasley's, a dozen outfits in your shrunken bag.

Ginny had already told you which was her favourite, and Ron had always said that he liked the sleeveless red dress on you, but now...well now, he studiously avoided looking at your arm almost as much as you tried to hide it.

When you arrived, you gladly accepted an alcoholic drink from Mrs. Weasley and hung around the kitchen with most of the boys until Fleur and Ginny came down the stairs fully dressed, and you couldn't put it off any longer.

You stood in Ginny's bedroom studying yourself in the mirror, pretending to wave, and smile, and pick up a glass to your lips. Your hands fell down to your sides, and you sighed. The long sleeved dresses made you look awful, but the sleeveless were...revealing too much. You were about to head downstairs to stubbornly refuse to leave the house when the bedroom door opened and in breezed Luna, looking...unique in her chosen outfit. No one but Luna could pull it off, you thought, never mind that no one else would probably want to. But still, it suited her, that flowing fabric and mystery decoration.

When she entered the room, you realised that there was no way you could not attend this. Everyone else was. Even Andromeda, and she had lost her entire family.

You closed your eyes to gather your resolve, then reached for the long sleeved emerald green dress you'd already tossed aside on the bed.

"I won't be long." you said, though she hadn't even asked the question.

She took the dress from you and let her hands slide along the fabric as she hung it up on Ginny's wardrobe door.

"But Hermione, you're already wearing the dress that you want."

You sighed and looked in the mirror once more, your right hand unconsciously scratching at your left arm. She came around to your side and lifted your arm, her fingers softly tracing the letters and her eyes following their path. You resisted the urge to pull away, seeing nothing but intrigue in Luna's face, not like Harry and Ginny, who still looked vaguely disgusted then pitiful every time they saw it, or Ron and the others that knew of it, pretending like it wasn't there.

"They don't mean to look at it the way they do, you know. They're not disgusted by you, or the mark that it's left on you. Just by the action and the person that did it in the first place."

Again, you were slightly uneasy with the ease that she seemed to be able to read you.

"But they all look at me...like that."

She let your arm drop but kept a hold of your fingers loosely within her own.

"Because they want to help. Or wish they had been there to help. But they can't and weren't. And until you deal with that, too, they're going to keep on looking at it with pity and disgust because it's what you're inviting."

With anyone else, you know you would have snapped. But with Luna, you knew there was no insensitivity meant; if anything, she was trying to be sensitive by talking to you the way no one else had. So you took a deep breath, and sat on the bed, keeping her fingers within yours, staring at the contact that you had been missing for some time.

"I don't...I don't _like _it, but it..." you trailed off before you admitted something that you hadn't even managed to admit out loud to yourself yet.

"You don't ever use a glamour."

It wasn't a question, but you felt yourself shaking your head anyway.

She nodded.

"It's pointless, because you know it's still there. And it becomes even more conspicuous by its absence."

There was a pause, but strangely enough, you didn't feel the need to fill it.

"You want it gone, but you don't. You hated the word, because it made you different, but you _are _different. Especially now. You don't want it gone, because you think you will forget, and even though you want to forget the pain, you don't want to forget the reasons why you have it; the things that now make you who you are. You wish it had never happened, but it did, and it's now a part of you. And it confuses you, because you think you should be like other people and resent the fact that it's there, and hate looking at it. But at the same time you're angry at those people because resenting it, and hating looking at it is the same as hating and resenting _you._ So you want to keep it to say 'up yours' at the same time as you don't want to keep it to say the same."

You didn't know what shocked you more; Luna's unbridled honesty, or an expression leaving her mouth that you had only ever associated with...well...not Luna. Yet, it sounded rather natural and necessary in her airy tone and the context of conversation. You nodded dumbly, not knowing what to say; she had basically read you like an open book.

She pulled out her wand then, and your eyes widened; you knew she wasn't a threat, and yet a part of you couldn't shake off her reputation; she was, after all, still Loony, wasn't she? She would try to make you like her, wouldn't she? But you allowed her to lift your arm, allowed her to lightly press her wand to it, tracing feather-soft patterns on your skin, and when you stopped cringing and allowed yourself to look, you realised that the only one that was Loony was you, for allowing yourself to judge her without ever knowing. Without ever asking. Because there, on your arm, was the most intricately designed, most beautiful pattern that you had ever seen; there were vines, and flowers - not bright and colourful yet not subdued; like the colours just before they start to wilt. There were blues and purples, and greys and blacks and reds but it was not overwhelming. A sleeve of pattern from your wrist wrapping around some of your fingers to just over your elbow, every vine like a step, like a comment on the years of your life. It created pictures of people and places without actually literally being them. It didn't so much hide the word _mudblood_ as contain it, make it a part of something bigger, something better. You looked at it in awe, and studied yourself in the mirror. It seemed to you so natural. And then you looked at Luna with wonder, because not only had she made you look beautiful, she had made you feel normal. Because you weren't just _mudblood_. _Mudblood _had made _you_ bigger; made _you _better, and Luna had found a way to make it known when all you could do was wallow in your turmoil.

"Come on then, Hermione. We can't all be fashionably late, after all."

She let go of your hand as she left the room, and you stood for a moment staring after her, still left wondering how exactly she just...was.

You walked down the stairs and noticed the looks of relief on everyone's faces and you realised that by trying to put everyone else's feelings first, you had actually been neglecting their physical presence. You smiled, and took Ron's offered arm, who didn't pass comment on your new, perhaps permanent, adornment, but who didn't look away with a grimace, either. You found Luna and smiled, and though Luna looked back with a smile that you knew she had directed at everyone else in the room at one point, at that moment in time, you knew that it was meant for you only.

At the function, nerves threatened to overtake you. You would have turned back to the fireplace had you not felt a hand gently press at the bottom of your back. Though he was standing next to you, you know that it was not Ron's hand, and you smile softly, feeling the warmth and confidence from the touch. You kept walking along with everyone, and before you knew it, you were immersed in a crowd, and feeling yourself relax more with every passing minute. You saw Andromeda and knew that she had seen you, too, but was holding back; afraid, perhaps, of frightening you again. You took a deep breath and disentangled yourself from Ron's borderline possessive grip, smiling to reassure him, and made your way over to where she stood with the Professor - Headmistress, you thought, now - Minerva McGonagall, and Neville Longbottom. Harry had just walked away from them and so you took the opportunity in the lull in conversation to slip into the group. You smiled when all faces turned to you, but your eyes focused only on Andromeda. You said your hello's, but when it came to Andromeda, you stepped closer and wrapped your arms tightly about her.

"I am sorry." you whispered into her ear as you pressed yourself into her. You willed her to understand, and when you pulled away and searched her eyes, you realised that Luna was right; that you were actually the only one that didn't.

You were vaguely aware of Neville's departing pat on the shoulder, and the Headmistress' small knowing smile and approving nod, but your attention was focused solely on Andromeda, and all the things that you wanted to say but couldn't, again, find the eloquence for. It didn't seem to matter in the end, though, because you could look her in the eye without feeling anything other than empathy. She picked up your arm and traced the magical tattoo with much the same reverence as Luna had done when the word was just the word, and when your eyes met again, hers were shining as much as you knew yours were.

"You'll always wear it well." she said.

And it didn't matter whether she was on about the pattern, the word or your blood status in general, because over her shoulder, you saw Luna watching you with a dreamy expression that before you would have put down to her being in a far away place, but that you knew now was down to her thinking about the present a lot deeper than anyone else ever would, and so you smiled, and thanked Andromeda, and knew that everyone else would soon accept it, because you had finally accepted it yourself.

After the Ministry function, you hadn't seen Luna for a couple of weeks, and found yourself at random intervals on this evening turning around and searching for the calming presence of the girl. You were all gathered in The Burrow; family, friends, friends of friends. You had all been celebrating again, a word that had become as tedious to you as the stilted conversations with people whose grief didn't change in the course of one week's gathering to the next. 'How are you's' became rather superfluous after the fifth time of asking. You had been trying to avoid Ron, knowing that George and Angelina's engagement party the previous week had set him off along flights of fancy that were too horrific for you to even voice aloud. But because you wouldn't speak of them, there was nothing you could do now to stop the inevitable. Avoidance was only working for you in theory, and you knew that it would only be a matter of time before he gathered everyone and cleared his throat, and would no doubt hold your hand and gaze at you adoringly, his eyes also laced with a tinge of anxiety and pleading. And for the life of you, you couldn't think of a way to stop it.

The more time that passed the more you realised that you couldn't remain in a relationship that had wilted before it had even got started, but you were stuck in a circle of feeling pity for him, which caused guilt, which caused anger, which caused pity...you didn't want to hurt anyone even more. Mrs Weasley had even told you that it brought her some comfort to know that Ron, as well as Ginny, was 'coming along so well', putting it solely down to your relationship, and couldn't wait to have you as a cemented part of the family - not that you weren't anyway, mind you. You wanted to put an end to it, but you feared that it wouldn't just be the end of your relationship.

And so you found yourself sitting in the garden, a relative distance from the house and the now semi-permanent marquee, wanting the ground to open up and swallow you but settling for the fact that none of the gnomes had given away your position yet. You wondered yet again what on earth you were going to do, or rather how on earth you were going to do what you had planned on doing when you thought you had plenty of time. You laid back on the grass, staring at the sky as it slowly turned paler, until you became aware of light footsteps coming towards you. You closed your eyes, thinking that perhaps it may be somebody that would just walk on by, or that if it wasn't, you could still afford yourself a precious few more seconds before having to carry on with your facade. You turned your head and came nose-to-knee with Luna and if you hadn't been completely certain before that you had to put an end to your relationship then you were now, because as your eyes travelled up to see her face, silhouetted against the sun, you smiled genuinely, and realised that the feeling you had held in the pit of your stomach all night was dread, because right then you felt relief. She laid down on her stomach, head propped up by her hands, gazing at you with her deep-in-thought expression.

"This is a strange place to be in the middle of a party."

"It's a strange party." you countered. You rolled onto your stomach, all of a sudden not entirely comfortable with the view of Luna that your position afforded, and adopted the same pose as her. You could feel her breath on your face then, a teasing warmth on your cooling skin and you tried to suppress a shiver, your skin pebbling nonetheless.

"It's not really," she answered, and you find yourself relieved that she hadn't made a comment about your reaction. "If it feels strange, then it's probably because you're uncomfortable."

"What if I'm uncomfortable because it's strange?" you retorted.

"I don't think so." she answered in the same tone of voice that she always used, making you wonder why you were getting so defensive with her in the first place. She pierced you with a clear gaze then and the furthest thing from your mind was looking away, even though in the past you would have gone to great lengths to look anywhere but at the girl in front of you.

"I think you've realised something, and it's that that's making you uncomfortable. It must be something quite serious, I think, for you to be trying to avoid everyone."

She looked away from you first and began to play with blades of grass. Normally you would have dismissed her already, thinking that she had lost interest in you as soon as she had stopped speaking, but now you knew that she was giving you time to absorb her words. Had always been trying to give you time to absorb her words, when you had walked away shaking your head. Not just you, you knew that, but that didn't diminish the stab of guilt that you felt. You rested your head on the backs of your hands, feeling anguished. You rolled your eyes at the melodrama of the word, and then wondered just how anguished you could actually be when you could carry on being this analytical.

"Luna...everyone expects _something_ from me. But, it's not really me that they're expecting it from, is it? It's _us..._me and Ron, like as if we've always been one person. I never had a chance to see if we could be relationship material before everyone else practically had us married. I can't marry him, Luna." You whispered the last sentence, conscious that it was the first time that you'd spoken it aloud. You could feel Luna's eyes on you, and eventually you met them with your own. She looked at you for a long time, and though you felt that she was searching your soul, you didn't feel like pulling it back and hiding it from her reach. If anything, the look made you feel safe, in a way that you hadn't realised you'd even been missing. If you had been expecting any of the why's or why not's and but's, they didn't fall from her lips. You realised, if you hadn't already known it, really, that Luna was perhaps the only person that wouldn't question you. Wouldn't try to convince you of a life already mapped out for you.

"Then don't."

Her voice dragged you back to the moment, and it took seconds for you to remember where you were, and the fact that the one person in the world who you'd never expected to now knew more about you than anyone else.

"It's not that easy, is it?"

You didn't really expect an answer, but should have remembered to always expect the unexpected when it came to Luna.

"Yes, it is. He hasn't asked you to marry him-"

"Yet." You cut her off.

She smiled at you then, as if you had a head full of Wrackspurts. You wondered, perhaps, if that had been the problem all along.

"What?" you couldn't help but smile back.

"He hasn't asked you, Hermione, and he can't if you're not there. Don't go back in tonight, and then talk to him tomorrow, alone. You know what you want to tell him, your only fear is hurting him more than you have to."

You cocked your head at her.

"I can't just leave..."

"Why not? It's a solution to the current problem that you have. Don't make things any harder on yourself, Hermione."

She stood up then, and you were left nose-to-knee again. Her waving hand brought you out of your reverie, and you allowed her to help you up.

"You can stay at mine, if you want to that is. Daddy's at the party, he won't be home for a while, though - he's going out looking for Plimpies later."

You shook your head and laughed, and any misgivings you had about leaving swept away with the wind as you held Luna's hand and ran with her over the hill.

Later that night, you laid in bed with Luna, it having been magically enhanced after neither of you allowing the other to sleep on the floor. You had sent an owl to the Weasley family in general, letting them know that you were ok, and specifically Ron that you would see him in the morning. You looked up at the sky, admiring the stars through the skylight. In your peripheral vision, you could see Luna doing the same, and you found yourself smiling at how innocent she looked, her gold-ish hair about her shoulders, wisps of it mingling with yours.

"Hermione?"

"Mm?" you answered lazily, not wanting to disturb the tranquility of the room.

"If it helps, I don't think I'd want you to marry Ronald."

You turned your head to meet her eyes, and as you did so, she stretched out somewhat and kissed you quickly and gently on your cheek. Lost for words momentarily, you held her gaze, then reached down to squeeze her hand between yours.

"If it helps, Luna, I'm really glad that you said that."

You both turn onto your sides, and you reached out to kiss her softly on her lips, before you settled your head into the pillow, you mind racing, wondering about all the why's what's and how's - the how, mainly that you had ended up here, not just physically, but mentally.

"Goodnight, Hermione. Watch the bed bugs don't bite."

As Luna closed her eyes, you chuckled softly and reached out your hand to tuck her hair behind her ears, before grasping her hand again.

"As long as they're not Wrackspurts." you whisper smiling, closing your eyes, deciding to leave the future where it belonged, for now.


	3. desidero BellatrixNarcissa

_Round 3: Bellatrix/Narcissa_

** ***WARNING: Blackcest (incest)*****

**Desidero **(to long for, wish for greatly, to miss)

* * *

><p><em>"Bella, Bella, stop!" you scream as you thunder down the stairs of your London home, your sister only a breath behind you. You squeal as you feel her arms on your shoulders and redouble your efforts to get away. You reach the bottom of the stairs but your momentum is too great, and you can't steady yourself enough to round the corner towards the kitchen before her arms are wrapping around your waist.<em>

_You know your screaming would earn you a slap if Mother or Father were home, but they aren't and so you carry on, your screams turning into squeals of delight as she effortlessly picks you up and twirls you around and around._

_You are laughing now as you beg her to put you down, feeling quite sick. She drops her arms and instead holds you close to her, spinning you both slowly._

_"You can't get away from me!" she laughs and kisses the top of your head. She puts you down and you look up at her, full of five-year old love and admiration for your sister._

_"I don't really want to," you answer, before taking off again, knowing that she will follow_.

You stare out of the window of the Manor and sigh softly, your finger tracing the pattern of a raindrop on the glass, but your mind chasing fragments of memories. You remember your words as Bellatrix chased you that day, and you wonder if she knew that you'd meant so much more by them.

_"Bella, I don't want you to go. You're leaving me." You were sobbing quietly in your room, having already been told off by Mother and banished from Bellatrix's room for an almighty tantrum. Bellatrix had snuck through the door to see you, and as soon as she appeared so did fresh tears. She kneels down next to the bed where you're sitting, and manages to coax your arms free from their stronghold around your chest._

_"I'm not leaving you, Cissy. It's school. We have to go to school, even you will eventually."_

_"But why can't I come with you?" you sob, letting her entwine your fingers but making no effort to hold her hand back. She sits next to you on the bed, then, and pulls you close to her. You keep your body stiff, but secretly you're glad of the feeling of her wrapped around you, her words spoken softly into your hair._

_"You can't come with me, Cissy, because while I'm gone, someone needs to be here to keep an eye on things; to make sure Andromeda doesn't get into any more trouble than usual; to make sure that Calix gets treats, because you know he won't get them from anyone else."_

_"But you could stay to do that," you answer, and though you know that you are whining, you know that Bella is the only one who hasn't ever shouted at you for it._

_"Cissy, my lovely girl," she sighs, and you hesitantly wrap your arm around her waist, ready now to listen to whatever she is about to say. "Remember when I told you about the stars in the sky?"_

_You nod, and when she doesn't carry on, you take a broken breath and recount the tale._

_"There's Bellatrix and Andromeda in the sky, and they shine bright up there together. But Narcissa isn't up there, because she was Merlin's special star, and he didn't want the other stars to get jealous, so he sent her to earth, to b... bloom, and be safe and be looked after."_

_You feel Bellatrix hum into your head before she pulls back and lifts your chin gently so that your red-rimmed eyes can meet hers._

_"We're your guardians, Andromeda and me (but especially me)," she adds in a mock whisper, and you giggle a little bit for the first time that day. "You're so special, and I can't let anything ever happen to you, but to always be able to look after you, I have to go to school to learn all the best ways of keeping you safe."_

_You think about this for a moment, and it stops your tears from falling._

_"But why didn't Merlin make you know all those things first of all?" you ask, not accusing anymore, but inquisitive. She smiles at you before she jumps off the bed and stands to attention in front of you, hands clasped behind her back and head bowed._

_"Because little girls are quiet and respectful and to know-it-all is insolent and undignified. Little girls listen, and learn, and do not have ideas above their station."_

_She answers in such perfect imitation of Mother that you burst out laughing, sniffling and drying your tears with your sleeve. She kneels down again and stares up at you with love in her bottomless dark eyes. "I'll never leave you, Narcissa, my lovely, beautiful girl. I'm just going there so I can come back better. For you."_

_You bite back the answer that you'd rather keep her here, just the way she is, and instead you jump off the bed and wrap your arms tight about her neck._

_"Do come back, Bella."_

You wrap your robe tighter about yourself before you sit down on the window seat and rest your head on the cool glass. You smile, sadly, as you remember the way she was, the way life was... before. Before any talk of husbands, and adult responsibilities and before The Dark Lord was nothing more than a horror story for the mudbloods.

_You grab her hand for what seems like the thousandth time that morning and rock excitedly on the balls of your feet, conscious of the presence of your father and his sniping at your earlier excitement level – sniping that you knew could abruptly escalate._

_"I'm coming to Hogwarts, Bella!"_

_She rolls her eyes and smiles indulgently._

_"Oh, are you?"_

_She ruffles your hair and gives you a kiss to take the sting out of her sarcasm. You smile and squeeze her hand and go back to mentally screaming for your mother to hurry up so you could all leave for the platform. You were so excited to experience and witness everything Bella and Andromeda had described to you, and to find things for yourself, but it was more than that, and you couldn't share the other reason for your excitement with anyone. You were excited to go, because it meant that you weren't left behind anymore; there would no longer be a part of Bella's life that you couldn't be a part of. Every summer she had come home, she had still been as pleased as ever to see you, and spent as much time with you as possible, but every year she had seemed a little more... distant, as though there was always a small part of her that was left behind at Hogwarts. You think that now, finally, you can be a part of that, so that even if she still leaves a part of her behind, you could leave a part of yourself, too, so she won't be lonely. She looks lost, sometimes in the holidays and you believe that now, finally, you'll know exactly what she's feeling because you'll be there all the time, and you can learn things to look after her, too._

You snort gently to yourself, recalling your childish naivety. At eleven years of age, summer, Christmas and Easter would revolve around you; you became Bella's entire world. You were not prepared for the reality of school; for the hundreds of other kids about, all vying for the same attention that you were so used to solely receiving. You remember floundering for a while, until finally exploding when you saw her laughing and joking with another Slytherin in your year. You cried, and screamed until she held you tight, tight against her and without letting you go she managed to keep everyone out of the common room for over an hour. You remember her holding your face in a vice grip, her eyes boring into yours, and talking with such utter ferocity that you remember thinking you started to love her even more, if possible. She would always, always, be yours. And Bella never lied to you. You wish now that sometimes she did.

_"Get off me!" you scream, shrugging your shoulders so violently that you think you may have pulled something, but Bella holds tight, shaking you almost as hard back._

_"Listen to me, Cissy, please!"_

_You have seen her cry, sometimes, and heard her protests of innocence, but never before have you heard her speak with such a tone of desperation. She would do anything for you, you know. All at once, it makes you feel sad, and scared, and self-righteous, and angry and... powerful._

_You pretend to be thinking for a moment, before acquiescing and turning to face her. The wild panic in her eyes seems to calm somewhat, though she doesn't let go of your arms._

_"Why did you do it, Bella?"_

_You shudder involuntarily as your mind recalls the image of your sisters in the common room, both bloodied, but chilling your blood is the stillness of Bellatrix, her eyes wide as she holds her wand over Andromeda, watching her own sister writhing on the floor. Screams still echo in your ears and you aren't sure if they are yours or Andromeda's as she cries in agony and you cry for Bella to stop._

_You don't remember how you got her to stop, only that she did, and you saw her eyes change, as if someone had turned on a different personality, but even then, her gaze lingered for too long on the blood, and there was no remorse when she looked at Andromeda, only when she turned towards you._

_"You tortured her, Bella. She's... she's your sister. Like me."_

_Bellatrix shakes her head frantically._

_"No... no, no no, Cissy, I would never hurt you. Not my beautiful girl, never. I don't know what came over me, please, forgive me, please Cissy?"_

_In your fourteen years, you have never heard Bella beg, either. Bellatrix Black bows to no one, and suddenly you feel as though the roles have reversed, that she needs you as much as you've always needed her; that you now hold her desires within your hands as much as she has always held yours._

_You will forgive her, there never was any question, but you still prickle with unease thinking about Andromeda, now lying in a hospital bed recovering from a curse that even your father hasn't threatened you with._

_"She doesn't deserve that," you say. Bella sighs and finally lets go of your arms._

_"She's not like us, Cissy. She needed to be taught a lesson, before things got out of hand."_

_"What things?"_

_"She's too easy with her... friendships, Cissy. I only showed her a quarter of what Father will do if he gets to hear of her newfound interest in playing with filth. I didn't want to hurt her badly."_

_You nod once then, not wanting to hear anymore about your sister's proclivities, your mind still unwilling to process all the ramifications that come with it. You refuse to give in and hold Bella just yet though, so you sit her on the bed, palm your wand and set to fixing her robes, and instead of a Scourgify, you use a flannel to gently wipe her face, surprised when you find yourself wiping away a small trail of tears. Dropping the flannel, you follow the trail up to her eye, wiping it away softly with your thumb. When she looks at you, you smile softly and pull her towards you, wrap your arms around her and bury your face in her hair. You shrug out of your outer robe, and encourage her to do the same._

_"Come on, let's get some rest."_

_She lays down on the bed with you, and you bury your head in her shoulder, sighing as you feel your body relax and the tension melt away. She holds you close and kisses your hair and you weave your hand into her mass of curls, still marvelling after all the times of touching it how easy it is to become entwined in it. You're both quiet for a while, and as you wonder what she's thinking, you take notice of her skin, pebbling underneath your breath. You press your lips to the spot, and you're surprised to feel her breathing change. Eyes wide, you rest your hand on her stomach, and even through the layers of fabric you can feel the gentle swell of her breast when you stretch your fingers. You watch the pulse in her neck quicken, but she doesn't move or make a sound and so you close your eyes; try to control your own breathing._

_You are acutely aware of the pressure of her leg between yours, and you clench your thighs, gently at first, but it only serves to intensify the feeling and so you do it harder. You don't really know what you're doing, why you feel the way you do, why now, but you don't care to analyse face is still buried in the crook of her neck, and you dare not lift it to look at her as your legs spread slightly wider to hold her thigh closer and tighter between yours. You begin to rock slowly, small movements that you could excuse away if you stopped, if she questioned you, but you don't because she doesn't, and so you give up the pretence of ignorance at your actions and give in to your desire to thrust your hips harder and faster. You try not to make a sound, but you can't help the whimpers that escape, especially when your knickers get wet and you feel Bella start to shake. She holds you tightly to her as she was before, though she makes no move to touch you, but you feel her gasp into your hair and her nails digging through your jumper and it doesn't take much more than that to make your hips move frantically, erratically and your toes to curl before your face becomes stuck in a silent scream and you think you're going to pass out. Your hand claws at Bella repeatedly, finds both clothes and skin, until your breath comes out in one big whoosh and you scramble to lift your hips away from her, the contact too intense now. Your breathing eventually evens but doesn't really calm because now your desire is somewhat sated you're gripped by fear and what you think must be utter mortification. Your whimpering now is utterly different to the noise of a minute ago, and you start to brace yourself to run away, wondering if you can make it without having to look at Bella at all._

_"Shush. Go to sleep, beautiful."_

_The words are spoken quietly, but they make you jump because of the too-stillness of the room and the chaos of your own mind. You open and close your mouth a few times, but coming up with nothing to say that wouldn't leave you tongue-tied and red-faced, you tentatively place your arm back around Bella's waist, and let out a ragged sigh as she pulls it tighter against herself. Your heartbeat slowly returns to normal and you finally allow your whole body to relax once again against Bella's, your eyes drifting shut as you feel her lips fleetingly against your forehead._

_You wake up suddenly, startled, and so it takes you moments to work out that you are in Bella's bed, before your heart skips beats as you remember the how's and why's. Squeezing your eyes shut for a final moment, you prepare to sneak out when you feel a sharp jab in your back and hear a muffled sound that must have been the reason for you waking. Relaxing your body again, you flop onto your stomach as though still asleep and manage to turn your head on the pillow so that you are now facing Bellatrix. Gingerly, you open one eye and though your vision doesn't adjust, you can make Bella out, blacker against the darkness. You peer, confused, until you hear a shaky moan and see her bite down on her wrist. Your brain is sluggish, but your heart seems to have caught on. It speeds up and beats somewhat erratically and when your eye trails down her body you have to take a double breath to get it started again. Her skirt is hitched up to her waist, one of her legs raised and her hand working furiously in her knickers. You open your eye fully and watch her hand for a few more moments before wrenching your gaze back to her face. Her eyes are squeezed tightly shut, but you are surprised to make out tears falling from the corner. You resist the urge to wipe them away, to kiss her, to cover her hand with your own, knowing that your attention would not be welcome. You battle with yourself instead; you are ashamed at the desire you feel, at the surge of love for Bella that is so much more than sisterly; but then you acknowledge that there has always been something... More between the two of you; you think that actually, you are only ashamed of the fact that you do not feel ashamed, because after all you love Bella, and she loves you, and it's not as if you want to marry her or anything, and anyway, it's not like anyone else needs to know, because it's only your business. Yours and Bella's. You just needed... closeness, after what happened with Andy. Settled, you focus all your attention on Bella as she brings herself to a silent climax, and as her body cools, you feel your face flush with arousal. Still feigning sleep you reach out for her and pull yourself close. You can still feel slight tremors run through her body and without thinking you squeeze her in empathy and comfort._

_"Merlin, Cissy," you hear her whisper softly, and you don't know if she knows that you're awake so you say or do nothing and let your mind drift; wondering at the desire you had heard in those two words, along with what sounded like frustration, and probably shame. You worry about Bella; about making her hurt; about her tendency to wallow in darkness and how you can stop her from doing that because of this night; but you also marvel at the proof of power you have over Bella – Bella, who had once been labelled an 'untameable' force. Bella, who you hold in your arms, who holds you back and who has just frigged herself thinking of you. You drift off to sleep, smiling._

You blush at the memory, amazed at your complete self-absorption and naivety – but then Narcissa has always been a well suited name for you. You can't quite believe now the ease with which you dismissed her attack on Andromeda, tossing your concerns aside as soon as desire and power became attainable. You laugh bitterly at what had been going through your mind that night; at the thought that you were the powerful one, for while time has shown that you do indeed have some influence over Bella, it has also shown that you cannot function without her, and still probably need her far more than she has ever needed you. You remember the vestiges of fear that she may abandon you being banished the morning after that night when she squeezed you tightly and whispered loving words like she had always done, except this time with added connotations, secret thrill and a 'No one must ever know'. You still do not regret it, though there were moments when you would catch Bella looking at you with an almost tortured expression, and you know that sometimes, she would tear herself apart.

_You sit on the edge of the bed, tears flowing freely, your gaze fixated on a spot of dirt on the floor. You should clean, before–_

_"Cissy, look at me."_

_Bella's voice is imploring, and though it tugs at you, you can't bring yourself to do as she asks, knowing that you will start to scream and sob again. But she is persistent and so she kneels down in front of you and takes your hand and strokes your cheek until you hesitantly meet her eyes. You feel a wave of fresh tears in sympathy with the ones in hers, but you don't want to sympathise; you want to hurt her, tear at her like she has just done to you._

_"I don't have a choice, Cissy. If it's not him, then it'll be somebody else."_

_You snort and get to your feet again, almost managing to unbalance her. She stands quickly and tries to reach for you but you shrug her away._

_"You have a choice! You can say 'no'! There doesn't have to be anyone unless you want it; you're Bellatrix Black, everyone listens to you, everyone does what you want!"_

_She laughs bitterly._

_"No, Cissy, not with this. I don't have a choice. It was always meant to be this way, probably from before I was even born. I have to marry, to keep the bloodline pure, to uphold the family values, and if I don't? I don't ever get to see any of you again. I'll be disowned, Cissy. Banished, to be forgotten about. Is that what you'd rather me do?"_

_"No!" you wail, throwing your arms up in frustration. "No, of course not, but... it's just... you can't marry, Bella, you can't!"_

_"I don't have a choice, Cissy!" she wails back and aims a hefty kick to your bedside cabinet. "You think I want this? To be bartered over by a bunch of pretentious assholes who all expect me to preen over them, to be honoured that they want me, and all the while I know that it matters not what they want either, because it all depends on the size of their father's bank vault? To be told that I have my first date tonight in preparation for the marriage in a month? To have to smile, and be nice, and learn how to become nothing more than a glorified house elf to please the mother-in-law that I've never met? You think I want to lay back and be fucked by someone who... ah, fuck it! Fuck it!"_

_You wince as her magic seems to crackle before jets of light burst out of her wand, destroying everything that they hit. She allows it for moments, her eyes seemingly entranced by the destruction, but her face clears as you squeal, and she wrenches her eyes away from the trail and flings her wand to the other side of the room. You both take the necessary steps towards each other, and at the same moment you both wrap yourselves around the other, fiercely gripping clothing and tightening your hold as though you each want to become a physical part of each other._

_"I'm sorry," you chant over and over, broken only with a single "I don't want to lose you."_

_She pulls back and grips your face tightly._

_"Listen to me, Cissy, listen. It's going to be ok, it'll be fine. We just... have to work around some things now. You're never going to lose me, I promise."_

_You think she sounds as if she's trying to convince herself, but you are so desperate to believe her that you nod frantically. Seeing you nod, she seems to relax a little, and breathes slightly deeper now._

_"Ok, ok. See, just because I'm married, it doesn't mean I can't ever see you. You're my sister, I can spend all the time I want with you... it just means that–"_

_You crash your lips onto hers, not wanting to hear her list everything you now have to battle against, not wanting to hear talk of the man that will force you apart. You hear an 'oof' of surprise before it turns into a moan as she starts to kiss you back. You start to push her backwards and as she falls onto the bed she manages to pull your dress up too. You waste no time in struggling out of it and run your hands up her skirt so that you too can demand that she undress. Nearly naked, you kiss again, your lips sliding more than usual, tears and runny noses making them wetter. Your breath hitches as she nips at your neck and you stretch to allow her better access. You bring your hand to rest on her breast and dig your nails into the pliable flesh, screaming out as her teeth sink into the tender spot between your neck and clavicle at the same time. She kisses the pain away and you massage her breast, over the indentations caused by your grip. You pull her on top of you, allow your legs to fall apart to accommodate her thigh between them. She rubs herself along your thigh and you gasp and moan as you feel the wet trail her movements create. You pull her close to you, running your hands over her back, lightly at first, but then with your fingernails as she arches into the touch. Harder and faster you move your hands, as she rocks harder and faster on your thigh. You manage to stretch your reach to her buttocks, and as though she relishes the pain, as soon as you dig your nails in, she thrusts frantically before crying out, her hands clawing at the sheets either side of your head. She rests her head on your shoulder as her body recovers and you smooth her back now, already feeling the heat from the raised lines that your nails created. You shudder as you realise that you'll have to heal them, before her soon to be husband– Shaking your head violently, you growl as you push her up, the unfinished thought both angering and hurting you. Surprised, she searches your eyes and for that moment, she is still all yours and you want her to remain that way, for as long as possible. You force her head to your breast and push her hand down between your legs, almost forcing her hand onto you. She gasps and you feel her hesitate; she has never been inside you, though you have been... intimate for the last two years. Entwining your hand in her hair, you gently pull until your eyes meet, and you guide her hand slowly to your opening, waiting for the realisation in her eyes before you push her wrist. A finger enters you easily, but she is too gentle; you do not want to be precious; you want to match her intensity; want her to want more of you, always, so you open your legs wider and lift your hips until there are two fingers inside of you and she now has to keep up with the pace that you set. Your thighs clench and your muscles contract around her fingers, making her moan and your mouth to open in silent screaming. You hold her face to your breast now and her tongue matches the ferocity of your movements. Her palm presses against your clit, and it's almost more than you can take. You pull her hair roughly, making her meet your eyes before you can no longer keep yours focused and you come so hard that Bella is almost thrown off you._

_She waits for your body to still before gently removing her fingers. She pulls you close to her then, and murmurs into your ear, and you can't help the tears that fall into her mass of hair. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, your hand travels down between your bodies, and you cup her mound, your fingers teasing her wetness before you move to claim her again._

You wish you regretted it, because then you wouldn't always be left wanting more. You wouldn't now be tortured. Your fingertips trace your lips as you recall that night; the first night that you came together in every way. You smile softly as you remember your thoughts; how it would be the first, and last time; how your life, at sixteen, was ending; how much you were jealous of bloody Rodolphus bloody Lestrange and angry at Bellatrix; how you knew that it should be for the best but accepted that you and Bella never were and never would be conventional – it should always be you two against everything.

You'd listened to Bella's promises, of course, but as far as you'd been concerned, you had to go back to Hogwarts and when you came home for the holidays that coming year, she would no longer be there to welcome you; to make you feel special. You remember slipping out of bed that morning before she awoke, wanting to have the one-upmanship of leaving her first; to stick the first knife in. You roll your eyes at yourself. You had been, after all, sneaking out of your own room in nothing but your nightdress. That had obviously shown Bellatrix, hadn't it?

_You step off the train and eagerly spin your eyes around the platform, before you remember that you aren't going to see a mass of curls bobbing towards you; the crowds were not going to part under a Black glare. You square your jaw, resenting your eyes for betraying you in the first place, and you collect your trunk and make your way to the barrier, refusing to acknowledge the prickling in your eyes or the lump making it difficult to swallow. You're not paying any attention to your surroundings, and suddenly, you feel a vicelike grip on your arm and your heart stops. You start to panic, and you're about to scream when you feel hot breath on your neck._

_"Haven't you missed me at all?"_

_Your eyes widen and as the grasp on your arm loosens you spin around into Bellatrix's embrace, completely oblivious to the curious and judgemental bystanders. After long moments, she gently pushes you away, only to grab your hand and start skipping lightly, pulling you along with her._

_"Come on, Cissy, let's get out of here! There's so much to tell you!"_

_You laugh, but the way that Bellatrix is speaking makes you slightly nervous: What is she doing here? Why is she so excited? You'd like to think it was excitement upon seeing you, but there is... an odd look in her eye that you haven't ever seen before._

_She takes you back to the Lestrange house – her house, you bitterly remind yourself – and as soon as the door is shut behind you, she pins you to the hallway wall, her breath coming excitedly on your cheek before she moves to trail kisses up your neck._

_"Cissy," she breathes and pecks you on the lips. "I've someone I want you to meet. It's so exciting, Cissy, so perfect! Come!"_

_She pulls at your wrist and though you are taller and try to resist, Bella's stature belies her strength and you half-stumble through the hallway and into the parlour._

_"Bella... " you start warningly, but a soft clearing of the throat startles you from your thoughts. You blush heavily as you notice a man with bright blonde hair step out of the shadows, a half-smile playing on his features. You glare at Bellatrix before lifting your chin and crossing your hands, hoping to regain some of the composure lost by your undignified entrance and the surprise of a visitor._

_"Ms. Black, I presume?" the visitor asks you, and you bob your head, allowing him to raise your hand to his lips._

_"Cissy... Narcissa, this is Lucius. Lucius Malfoy."_

_Bellatrix's eyes are wide and she is almost buzzing in front of you. Missing her point completely, you narrow your eyes at her use of your full name._

_"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Malfoy," you reply, though you are lost as to how to proceed with a conversation. You vaguely remember him from school, but don't know enough about him or his purpose in your sister's home to engage him._

_"The pleasure is surely all mine, Ms. Black. I look forward to conversing with you further over the course of this week."_

_He dips his head to you before he... sweeps? Stalks? Swaggers, you decide... out of the room. You barely hear the door click shut before you round on your sister. A small part of you is pleased that something about you makes her back away slightly, but the rest of you is still wary about the slightly maniacal aura about her._

_"What. Was. That?" you ask, injecting as much venom into your voice as you can muster._

_"Now, now, Cissy, calm down," she answers as she moves to stroke your cheek. "It's the perfect thing, just perfect."_

_"For Merlin's sake, Bella, what is?"_

_"You can marry Lucius Malfoy!" she almost squeals. It takes her a minute to stop jumping on the spot when she realises that you're not doing the same. She pulls you to sit on the sofa and you follow, struck momentarily dumb._

_"Cissy, you've just left school, if Father were still about you probably would already have a sold sign over you. Leave it to Mother and you'll be left with a scummy Macnair or something. You have to marry someone, Cissy mine, and Malfoy... it's perfect!"_

_You mind reels, and never mind the things that you should be getting angry about, you can only concentrate on one thing._

_"How do you mean, it's perfect?"_

_She blinks a couple of times, probably shocked at your lack of outrage, before she grabs your hands again._

_"He's a... he knows the same people as me, Cissy. We want the same things; work for the same things; the same person. He's not that much older than you, his family is well-respected... and he's filthy rich."_

_You know she's trying to distract you with the money, and though you file the information away, grateful for it, you press on with the finer details._

_"What do you mean 'you work for the same things'? He's a what, Bella? And that still doesn't explain the utter perfection of this match. What are you up to?"_

_She jumps to her feet and by sheer force, you have no choice but to rise with her. She pulls you close to her, hugs you tightly. Your arms are limp by your sides now. You are struggling to pull the pieces together, and Bella wrapped around you has always been an almost overwhelming feeling._

_"Because if you marry Malfoy, Cissy, we'll have it made, you and me," she whispers fiercely into your ear, and though you want to be sceptical, your heart hammers a little harder. You both turn as the door creaks slightly and the Malfoy fellow jerks his head slightly at Bellatrix. "I haven't time to explain it all right now, Cissy, but I'll be back soon, ever so soon, and you and me... we'll talk, and I'll explain, and I know you'll just love it, you will, because I love it, and I love you, Narcissa," she whispers this so quietly that you strain to hear, and by the time you think of a response to the rapid rush of words, she is already skipping out of the door behind Malfoy, and by the time you gather enough wits to follow, all you see is the tails of her skirts disappearing into the flames._

You remember the fear that set in after Bellatrix had left; while you knew you would have to be married, it had never really seemed real to you, until then. Perhaps you'd thought you could go on as you always had; cocooned somewhere, as you had been at Hogwarts, spending any time you could with Bellatrix. Perhaps you had still been young enough to believe in wishes, and hope and prayer, back then. You felt hurt, you remember; Bellatrix was giving you away... didn't she want you anymore? You knew it was irrational, but that thought hadn't stopped your tears, the same as it doesn't stop them now. You had, have never felt so alone.

_You jerk awake, your head spinning wildly for a few moments before you remember where you are. The fire must have died hours ago as the drawing room is dark, cold and eerily quiet. You could hear a pin drop, and so when there is an almighty bang from the hallway you almost fall out of the chair in fear. You clutch your wand and make to move just as the door flies open. You are too frightened to scream, but as the your eyes adjust, you manage to make out that the mass of black now writhing against the wall is actually Bellatrix. You rush forward, but stop about a foot away from her, your initial fear creeping back making your heart hammer._

_"B... Bella?" your voice is tentative, her whole demeanour unsettling you._

_She opens her eyes slowly and stares at you for moments before she starts to laugh. You force yourself not to recoil; the look in her eyes and the sound is almost maniacal, unlike anything you have witnessed from her before._

_"Bella?" you try again, and she stops laughing, her breathing heavy, but her eyes remain wide and glazed as she holds her arms out for you. You gasp and immediately close the gap between you, but instead of embracing, you grab her left arm within your hands, horrified at the mangled mess that is her forearm._

_"Bella... what... " you struggle to find the words but your eyes are forced from the trail of seeping blood up to her face when she roughly jerks her arm, along with your hands, up to her face. She leans her cheek against your hand, then starts to laugh again – quieter this time, but still the sound sends chills through you. Her tongue snakes out and you watch in horrified mesmerisation as she follows the trail of blood, and licks reverently at what appears to be some sort of tattooed mark. You snap out of yourself and try to pull away but she holds your hand in a vice grip now._

_"Cissy... my Cissy. My beautiful Cissy. I can give you the world now, Narcissa. Everything, everything will change; we'll get what we deserve, Cissy."_

_"Bella... Bella I don't understand!" You truly panic now, because as she's speaking she begins to slide down the wall, with you having no choice but to follow. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly and you reach out with your other hand to feel her head. She is feverish and beads of sweat are running down her face and neck._

_"I'll explain, Cissy, I will... I'm on fire," she moans, and begins to pull at her clothing._

_You manage, somehow, to get her upstairs, although in the process she has managed to rip holes in not only her own clothes but yours, too. You take her wand before she can do lasting damage, and when you turn back to her she is writhing on the bed, her hands balled into fists and roaming her body._

_"I don't... you need a Healer, Bella."_

_"No," she gasps, and her eyes fly open to see you wringing your hands, perched on the edge of the mattress. "No, no Healer, just... oh, Merlin, Cissy, everything's burning."_

_Confusion mingles with your concern, as your sure there is an element of pride or even happiness in her voice at this statement. Pushing this aside, you get up to retrieve some compresses, and when you return she is fully naked laying on her back, arms folded beneath her. You sit next to her and gingerly gather her mass of curls to one side before resting the compress on the back of her neck. She moans appreciatively so you leave it there a few moments, before steeling yourself for what you are about to witness._

_"I need your arm, Bella, it needs to be cleaned."_

_Her body stiffens but she slowly withdraws it. You wipe at the surrounding blood, trying resolutely to ignore your sister's whimpers, and with a deep breath, you finally apply the cloth to the bloody mess in the centre. She buries her head in a pillow and you hear the muffled scream but you persevere, murmuring soothing nonsense as you swipe gently at what you now see is some sort of a skull and snake mark, which is, perturbingly, red hot and seemingly glowing. Blood still seeps from it, but your heart cannot tolerate listening to Bella any longer and so you remove the cloth and exchange it for another. You run it up her arm and let it rest on her neck again until her body relaxes somewhat. Seeing the perspiration gathered, you run the cloth down to the small of her back, hoping that it would help Bella's temperature drop somewhat. You repeat the action a few times before she abruptly turns onto her stomach, her eyes wide and her body now trembling._

_"Cissy, please... "_

_Her right hand is clenched over her stomach and so initially that's where you place the compress, relieved when her grip on her skin relaxes slightly. You run it over her front now, and though you try to tamp down your desire, you can't help but sigh when her nipples tighten, nor your eyes following the water droplets that run over her burning skin. She holds you by your wrist and you think she wants you to stop, but when you make to move, she tightens her hold and starts to dictate your movements. She leads you up to her breasts again and presses the cloth in your hand down roughly as she drags it across them. You have to shift onto your knees to stop her movements from breaking your arm. She drags your hand back down her body, only this time she continues past her stomach and comes to rest between her legs, her thighs already open, knees bent. She presses the cloth hard against her cunt and groans loudly at the contact. After a moment, you pull away slightly, and let the cloth fall. She lets go of your wrist and covers your hand with her own, bringing your fingers into contact with the heat and moisture._

_"I'm on fire," she moans again as she presses your fingers harder into her._

_You ignore the voice that is screaming at you for your actions, for you have never been able to deny Bella anything, not really, and even in her feverish state, you almost shamefully admit that she is painfully arousing still._

_Later, she lays blissfully unconscious, sweat cooling on her skin, and you wonder whether fevers are catching as you struggle to douse the all-encompassing heat that courses through you._

You remember waking the next morning, your initial fear from the previous night returning, and despite the heat and light of the morning sun, you could not dispel the chill you felt as you studied the still sleeping form of your sister. You relive the night; recall the wildness of her desire; the maniacal look in her eyes; the breathless wonder in her voice. You wanted answers, but at the same time felt too afraid to ask the questions. You disliked change, and this – whatever this was – you knew would change your whole world. So, you had waited for Bellatrix to rouse by herself rather than wake her, and when she had immediately sat up and studied her arm with the same disconcerting reverence as you had seen hours earlier, you were left with no doubt that whatever had gone on that night, your sister was changing, and you could either accept and embrace it, or lose her completely. You wonder now whether there was ever really any decision to be made. She pulled you to her and held you as she spoke of this Lord; of his ambitions; of how he embraced his most faithful of followers... of how you could marry Lucius Malfoy, and be a part of the coveted inner circle that would eventually govern the entire country – the world, even, eventually – and, most importantly, live in a big Manor, wanting for nothing, even Bella. You had resolutely ignored the knot in your stomach, and concentrated only on the idyllic simplicity Bella described. After all, she never lied to you. And this way, you would always be together.

Your tears flow freely now along with the snippets of memories flying through your mind; the Christmas holidays spent at Bella's house and Malfoy Manor, listening in to hushed conversations and watching the random disappearances after a hiss of pain and a clutching of the left arm; the spring term at Hogwarts, with the murmurings of unrest and the whispered rumours of a Dark Lord; the Easter holidays, spent mostly at Bella's home, tending to the cuts and bruises and mental scarring that she, Lucius and others would sometimes return with at all hours of the day and night.

By the time your last summer at Hogwarts had finished, your wedding was set in stone for August 5th, and you had never felt such relief. You would no longer be tucked away from the real world for half the year, desperately noting the change in Bella every time you returned home; not just the physical, but the changes that only you could see reflected in her eyes. Now, Lucius notwithstanding (and she had never shown much regard for her own husband) you could keep a closer eye on her, and finally, finally be privy to everything that was going on.

You snort to yourself again as you recall your wedding day, and your very first meeting with The Dark Lord himself. It was then you realised the extent of his plans, and the involvement of your now closest family. That night, you listened to Lucius try to soothe you, telling you about the future and all the things he could provide for you now, but he was no Bellatrix, and he couldn't stop your shaking. You waited for him to fall into a deep sleep before you snook out to the room that your sister had apparently claimed as her own and slid into her bed, into her arms, where she held you close, whispering softly.

"You were born to this, Cissy. You're a Lady, my Fair, Beautiful Lady."

She had soothed your soul, and from that moment you eased seamlessly into you new life; the perfect wife, hostess, and your analytical mind soon won favour with The Dark Lord so that you were often exempt from the displays of torture he was increasingly prone to.

Your fear had remained at bay until the birth of your son, Draco... Draco. Even now, in the midst of the utter depression gripping you, the thought of your son makes you smile. You remember gazing at his chubby little face, and wondering... wondering whether you were doing right, bringing him into this world. Raising him in this life. But when you saw him with Lucius, and Bella, and how they both doted on him, you knew that, whatever, he would be loved and cherished and, most importantly, protected. Now, you wonder to yourself if it came to it, whether Bellatrix would have the ability or even the inclination that both you and Lucius had to protect him from the biggest threat to you all.

Bella... fourteen years she has been missing from your life, and though you have functioned, you have never truly felt as though you were living, even in the treasured company of your son.

You wonder why, why she had to be so bloody... loyal, so single-minded as to go searching for answers as to the Dark Lord's whereabouts after that catastrophic Potter incident, but deep down you know that she would never have not, even knowing that it would end in her capture.

You remember the account of the torture inflicted on the Longbottom's; the maniacal picture taken of her in Azkaban, juxtaposed with the eerily calm demeanour she had held during her trial. You struggled for a while to align that Bella with the one that, even up until her capture, had held you lovingly, kissed you sweetly, and looked upon you every time as though it was to be her last sight. But you gave up eventually, knowing that you had seen glimpses of this other Bella – and that it wasn't so much 'other' as a part of her that you had known of but chosen not to acknowledge, being safely tucked away from it.

It seemed – still seems – to you that everything good in your life has always been tied to Bella, and with her incarceration, your life fell apart and never really fitted back together again properly.

You sigh, berating yourself for allowing your thoughts to follow this trail, again, but you allow yourself a few more tears, vowing that when Lucius returns home you will try to forget, no matter how futile this vow has been in the past. You wipe at your eyes, dragging you skin tight with your hands before you open them again. It takes moments for your vision to adjust again, and when it does you gasp and recoil from the window. You shake your head, convinced that your brain is playing tricks, but it doesn't stop you from moving forward again and tentatively wiping at the condensation on the window. You gasp again, louder this time as you press your hands and almost you nose against the pane. The figure standing in the middle of your path is definitely not a mirage, and you're sure... so painfully sure that you'd recognise that figure even in a roomful of lookalikes. You push yourself away from the window and run for the stairs, stopping only briefly at the top to make sure that she was still there. You fly down the stairs, not even sure if you found your footing, before making short work of the hallway and almost falling through the front doors that you'd thoughtlessly waved open on your journey. You come to a complete stop at the top of the concrete steps, heart racing in your mouth as your eyes rake over the unmistakeable figure of Bellatrix still standing prone on the pathway. It seems like forever passes as you commit every inch to memory, before you meet her eyes.

"Bella?"

Her eyes come alive as she hears your voice, and she takes one, seemingly hesitant step forward. You let out a breath you hadn't realised you'd been holding.

"Bella," you whisper, and this time you see the corners of her mouth twitching, too.

"Cissy?" her voice is hoarse, and she frowns as if unused to the sound of herself. You step forward and hold out your hand, wanting to throw yourself into her arms but not wanting to overwhelm her. She touches your fingers first and you almost whimper. She studies them intently, before raising her head to meet your eyes again.

"Cissy," she holds your hand up to her face, rubbing her cheek against your palm. You step closer to her and wrap your other arm gently around her until she leans in to you. You feel her inhaling you and shut your eyes. You force yourself not to do the same; the stench of Azkaban the only smell prevalent on Bella. Instead you squeeze her tightly for many moments until you pull back softly to meet her eyes. The blankness you see worries you, but it has been so long, and there is so much different-yet-same that you put it from your mind for now and lead her into the house. She looks around with something akin to childlike anxiousness, but then her eyes settle on you, and they begin to dance slightly again, although her body is still coiled tighter than Nagini's sleeping form. You gently pull her into the house, and when the doors close behind you, you step back to see her in under the light. Your hands trace her face, more tears falling as you realise that she is really there.

"Bella... How... Where... Oh, Bella."

She places a shaky hand over yours and squeezes your fingers. Her face twitches, and the ghost of a smile appears.

"Here, Cissy. I'm here. Escaped. He... came. I'm here."

Her voice is hoarse, but still filled with the childlike melody that you had thought never to hear again.

"Yes," you half-laugh, half-sob. "You're here, Bella. You're safe."

She looks around again, her eyes never settling, as if everything holds too much detail to absorb after the greyness of the Azkaban cell.

"Tired, Cissy."

You lead her upstairs to the room which has always been hers, straight through to the en suite where you set to filling a bath and warming the room. You hold the hem of her tattered sackcloth and look in her eyes as you see her confusion.

"Let's get you washed first, Bella. Then you can eat, and sleep."

She gingerly lifts her arms, and you cannot stop a gasp as you divest her of her clothing and reveal more bones then you ever thought it would be possible to see on a person. You trace her hip with your fingers, your face filled with anguish, until you hear her whimper. You see her lip tremble, and so you wrap your arms around her and gently pull her towards you. It is a while before you feel her arms tentatively wrap around your waist, but when you do, you sigh deeply, glad that at least a part of her that first left is still within her.

"Come," you whisper, your hands running over too-sharp shoulder blades. "Get in the bath."

She sits unmoving for a while in the water, her arms wrapped about her legs, so you pick up your wand, tilt her head back and start to wash her hair yourself. She relaxes as you work your fingers through it, both of you relishing the long-forgotten touch. You work on her back and her legs until her hand grips your wrist causing you to jerk out of your intense concentration.

"Cissy," she looks you in the eye and smiles, and when you softly smile back, she laughs and tips herself backwards until she is completely submerged under the water. She bounces back up, laughing and spraying you as her hair lashes across her face and back. She wipes the hair and water from her face and returns to staring at you, her eyes sparkling. "Cissy."

"Yes," you whisper before you stand and hold out a towel for her.

She steps into it and you wrap it and yourself around her, deeply inhaling the crook of her neck now, relishing the scents that always worked so well on her. You pull back and take her hand, leading her back through to the bedroom. She looks around in wonder.

"I kept it all the same. I couldn't change it, like you'd never been here. It's yours, isn't it? I... I couldn't lose you forever."

She cocks her head, before she leans forward and places a soft kiss on the edge of your lips. You feel tears falling again, powerless to stop them. She wipes them away with her thumb and leans into your embrace again.

"What... What about... You know... Rodolphus, and–"

She cuts you off with a quick kiss.

"Tomorrow, Cissy. We can talk tomorrow. Please."

You nod, grateful at her response, because truthfully you had only asked out of a sense of duty. You both sit on the bed and lean against each other, relishing just being, until you feel Bellatrix begin to nod. You lower her into bed, and divest yourself of your clothing before joining her. She cuddles into your side and you hold your arms protectively around her, feeling just as safe now as you used to when she held you. You smooth every inch of her skin you can find, until your fingers rest on her left forearm, and you wince as you feel the mark as prominent now as the last time, if not more so.

She rests her lips against your breast and entwines her fingers within yours.

"I won't ever leave you." She whispers.

You smile sadly.

"You can't promise that, Bella. Not anymore."

You hate that your voice sounds so weak, but she has always been able to shatter you into pieces.

"No, perhaps you're right. But I'll always be with you, Narcissa. In here." She kissed your breast, over your heart. "And I'll always be yours. Always."

You squeeze her close to you, knowing in the back of your mind that her words would bring nothing but heartache, again, but you don't really care right now. You allow yourself to drift, back to a time where Bellatrix was carefree and you believed in her with all your heart and soul, and you were always hers and she was always yours, and as you close your eyes and join her in sleep, you smile softly, almost convinced that everything would be ok.

* * *

><p><em>an: sorry this has taken so long – over a month to write! – but I hope it's worth it ... let me know? :)_


	4. commiles FredBlaise

_Round 4: Fred Weasley/Blaise Zabini (partners-in-crime fic)_

**Commiles **(fellow soldier)

* * *

><p>Fred was fuming. He had just left Umbridge's office after his second night of detention that week. The back of his hand was stinging like a mother–He shook his head (his mother abhorred bad language). He was too worked up to go straight to the common room, and so risking incurring her wrath once more as it was after curfew, he made his way to the Room of Requirement. He paced for a while, not able to form any specific need from the room in his mind, until finally a door appeared and he barged through it. He stopped suddenly, surprised to find an exact replica of his and George's room at The Burrow. A grin slowly spread over his face as he entered the room fully, chuckling as he ran his hands over all their equipment and ingredients, noting the added extras that the room had provided. His mind started whirring, and his grin spread into a smile that fully covered his face and lit up his eyes as he handled the vials and packages.<p>

He and George had been working on a new production line before they'd had to set off for Hogwarts that year, and though they had managed to bring most everything with them, they had still been worried about the equipment they left behind being ... well, Molly Weasley'd. By the looks of this room, everything at home was how they had left it. He grabbed some ingredients: whisker of Blast-ended Skrewt, Porcupine Quill, Dragon Hide and infusion of wormwood to name but a few, and set to work.

Three hours later, Fred cautiously exited the Room of Requirement, his robes a lot bulkier than when he entered. Having had to veer off his course rather quickly to avoid Mrs. Norris, he realised with a curse that the only way back to Gryffindor Tower was past Umbridge's office. Knowing that it wouldn't be his luck for her to be safely tucked up in bed, he didn't think it worth the risk to cast a notice-me-not glamour this close to the office so he steeled himself before rounding the corner to the corridor. He had taken three steps when he stopped suddenly, his heart plummeting as he saw a shadowed figure by Umbridge's office door. He went to turn when he noticed that the figure wasn't just shadowed but cloaked and hooded and was in fact bent down in front of the door. The noise of surprise that he thought he had caught in his throat must have been somewhat audible, as the figure's head snapped up, its gaze undoubtedly fixed on him. Fred closed his eyes, reading himself for the worst, but when he opened them the figure was stumbling away, leaving something rattling outside the door, the noise echoing loudly in the silence of the night.  
><em>Shit.<br>_A light flickered through the glass in the door and before his brain could engage, Fred's feet were running. He flew past the office door, stooping to pick up the noisy object without thought as he raced past, making it to the tower in record time, hearing the disembodied voice of Filch somewhere in the recesses of the castle.

He sat in his bed, curtains drawn around him, not even wanting to wake George for the moment as he examined the ring that he had picked up from the floor. Even under the light, the ring was dull in colour, seemingly absorbing rather than reflecting the rays from the tip of his wand. The band felt ridged, and as he peered at the crest, he realised the band was actually the body of a snake, the mouth opening up into the crest to hold within it a small brownish egg with letters inside, undecipherable in the current light. The ring was by no means feminine, but yet decidedly delicate. Fred frowned at it for a while, but still could not draw any conclusions as to its owner, or, if it was left there deliberately, its purpose. He placed it in a purse that he kept in his bedside drawer, deposited his loot in his trunk under the bed, concealed it with a glamour and an almost mouldy vest before settling down to sleep.

The whole of Gryffindor Tower was awoken by a shrill alarm, its origin unknown. With a chorus of moans and groans, almost everyone trooped to the common room, surprised to find Professor McGonagall standing there, in her teaching robes already despite it still being ungodly early in the eyes of everyone. She eyed the students in front of her, who shifted uncomfortably, feeling that their sleepwear – from plain boxers to too-short silk nightdresses – had never been under such intense scrutiny.

"Good morning," she began, her voice indicating that it was going to turn out to be anything but. "Everyone needs to dress and assemble in the Great Hall in the next fifteen minutes. Our resident ... _Inquisitor_ ... " there were a few snorts at the undisguised disdain in her emphasis on the status of Dolores Umbridge. "... has a matter that she urgently needs to discuss with the whole school. Apparently there was a disturbance in her office last night." Her eyes landed on George, who for once looked back genuinely mystified. Eyebrow quirked, she transferred her look to Fred, and though he had mastered the art of looking innocent, George was far better at it; McGonagall and his mother remained the only people that could seemingly read his mind, and though he technically had had nothing to do with any disturbance within her office, he had been in the general vicinity and he was sure McGonagall knew just as much. Her eyes sparkled as she continued.

"Now, I have assured _Professor _Umbridge that since she has set all of these rid– regulations, that no one from Gryffindor would be fool enough to be out of the tower at that time of night, let alone anywhere near her office, however, the woman insists."

There were outright giggles now at the tone of Professor McGonagall's voice, but the sternness of her face still sent them scurrying to their dorms to dress and exit in record time.

Having rushed out, George only managed to catch up with Fred on their way to the Great Hall. He grabbed his elbow, walking close enough to him that no one else would hear their conversation.

"Freddie, I am deeply wounded that you embarked upon this adventure without me. Now, please recount the details, so that if I am to be tortured, I can at least feel as though I'm not a complete martyr."

Fred smiled despite himself.

"Hand on heart, Georgie, I can assure you that this incident of whatever magnitude had nothing to do with me ... for the most part."

George looked at him quizzically. Fred lowered his voice so that he was barely more than miming.

"I had, however, been to the Room of Requirement. We're ready to embark on a new Wheezy venture; I'll share all later."

George nodded as they reached the doors of the Great Hall.

"Provided our venerable Inquisitor doesn't resort to _crucio-ing _us into submission."

* * *

><p>"Hem-hem."<p>

Fred idly wondered if he'd ever heard such an irritating noise. He scanned the crowd, noting that the Slytherins were also gathered but only seemingly for appearances – most stood behind Umbridge, doing their best to stare menacingly but only succeeding in looking twice as thick. As Umbridge started speaking, he met Professor McGonagall's eyes and almost snorted at the subtle eye-roll. Her eyes sparkled at him for a few moments before she schooled her features into her usual stern mask and looked pointedly at Umbridge. He took the hint and settled down for the inquisition.

As she droned on, Fred's mind began to drift back to the previous night, and he began to inspect the gathered students again, overlooking the Slytherins. Most looked unsurprisingly fearful, and stared at the floor in a blatant attempt to look unassuming and, more importantly, innocent. After an hour, only a small group of students and their heads of houses remained. The tension between McGonagall and Umbridge was palpable, and even the diminutive Professor Flitwick radiated waves of anger.

The students, all members of Dumbledore's Army except for a terrified first year who Fred only suspected was there because Umbridge's presence brought him out in nervous twitching, looked from professor to professor, wondering if any of them would even notice by now if they backed out of the room.

"Power was given to me by the minister himself to investigate matters within this school_ – _a process that it seems is being deliberately hampered by a select few ... _vagrants_. Am I now to believe that members of staff are outwardly defying the Ministry too, _Minerva?_"

The students and staff all bristled at Umbridge's condescending tone. Professor McGonagall held herself rigid, only a flicker of disdain showing on her face.

"Authority was not given to you to outwardly flout Ministerial law either, _Dolores._You have asked, and the children blatantly know nothing. To further question using your ... dubious methods counts as harassment, and very likely torture. I'm sure that there are certain things that even the minister himself will not condone."

Dolores Umbridge rose a few inches, her nose in the air as she glowered at the venerable Transfiguration professor.

"We shall see."

And with that, she stalked out of the Great Hall, an almost audible sigh of relief following her.

Professor McGonagall, after sharing a look with her colleagues that was not lost on Fred or George, turned to the students.

"Back to your Houses, now," she said, her voice almost kindly. She grabbed the twins by the elbow as they made to follow their peers. "This won't go unchallenged by her. Please, watch your steps. You'd do well to remind others of that, too, whatever it is that you're up to."

Both teenagers nodded, realising the inappropriateness of jesting. They strode out of the hall, smiling as they heard their Head of House announce, with a hint of pride, "Whatever she comes out with next, I'm sure they can respond with worse."

* * *

><p>George clapped his hands together with glee as he gazed into Fred's trunk.<p>

"And you did all of this last night?"

Fred nodded.

"Hogwarts must hate the woman almost as much as we do; I'm telling you, it's never been that easy."

George handled a package reverently.

"So what set off her alarms then?"

Fred shrugged.

"I honestly don't know. There must have been someone there just before I got there, unless she's got the entire corridor censored. It was close."

Fred wasn't entirely sure why he kept the hooded figure and the ring from George. It just seemed to him that he had stumbled upon the person by accident, and some sense of ... comradeship, perhaps, kept him from setting others to try and discover their identity. Thankfully, George was by now far too engrossed in their new project to notice Fred's forced nonchalance.

"So, are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Fred asked. Their eyes glistened wickedly over the package.

"I believe you may be right, Fred."

* * *

><p>That night, Fred waited until the breathing in the dorm evened out before he slipped on his trainers, checked his robe pocket for the ring, and snook out of the Tower. Just before exiting, he cast a disillusionment charm on himself; there were no guarantees that he would see the same person tonight, but on the off-chance, he wanted to be able to get close enough to see them without first being seen.<p>

He rounded the corner to Umbridge's rooms, having first set off a ticking time-bomb two floors away to lure any patrolling staff members and cats. Disappointed, he noted the lack of any other presence, but resolved to give it as long as possible before returning to the dorm. Pulling the ring out of his pocket again, he studied it under the dim lighting coming from a nearby torch, and thought again that inside the egg were interwoven letters – perhaps a B, an L or a Z. Hearing a faint sound, he pressed himself against the wall and held his breath, ready to bolt, but relaxed marginally as a hooded figure came creeping along the opposite end of the corridor and stopped right outside Umbridge's office door. The figure surreptitiously glanced around before kneeling down, and Fred's grin widened as it glanced right past him.

He waited a few seconds before beginning to sneak closer. He was beyond intrigued by the rustling movements of the figure, but held himself back, noting how twitchy they were compared to the previous night.

After a few moments, Fred managed to get close enough to spy the sack that the figure held. He heard more rustling, just before the figure grabbed a hold of something and slipped it under the door in a flash. Fred leaned in slightly as he noticed that the sack was far from empty. The figure removed its hand from within it again, and this time Fred caught the shape of a creature before it too disappeared under the door. Fred took a deep breath.

"Nifflers," he whispered almost inaudibly. "Very impressive."

The person jumped and almost fell backwards, Fred steadying them just in time. Two sets of eyes widened as they met and the now obviously male student stood slowly.

"Zabini!" Fred exclaimed, momentarily forgetting the peril of their environment until the other boy gesticulated widely, causing Fred to clamp his hand over his mouth.

They eyed each other warily, neither knowing what their reaction should be, normally so fully distrustful of each other.

"But you're a Slytherin," Fred stated.

Zabini's eyes blazed.

"This is as much my school as yours," he hissed, "Why shouldn't I want to stand up for it? Being a Slytherin doesn't automatically negate my belief in what's fair."

Fred eyed him suspiciously, before his face softened, and he bent down to the sack that still lay wriggling on the floor. He gently took out the last Niffler, and slipped it under the door, before reaching into his pocket and manually setting a timer on a Weasley variation of a firework that him and George had created earlier, before placing it inconspicuously above the doorframe.

"Nice work, Zabini."

A ghost of a grin appeared on Blaise's face.

"Not bad, for a non-Weasley."

They nodded at each other, before realising that they'd lingered for longer than necessary and both headed in opposite directions back to their dorms.

Fred returned to the common room unscathed, and opted to sit in front of the fire for a while, his mind reeling.

"A Slytherin," he whispered, torn between disbelief and laughter. His hand unconsciously wandered to his pockets, where it made contact with the ring that, in all that had transpired, he had completely forgotten about. He pulled it out and studied it closely. To him, the letters were now quite obviously an intricate weaving of B and Z, the egg now almost glowing a gold colour. He mulled over Blaise's earlier words, and found himself trying to contend with the conflicting emotions that this new information left him with. He had to admit a newfound respect for the boy, if not the House he belonged to, but found this completely contradicting everything he had previously believed in, and the knowledge that he had always lived by.

_All __Slytherin__'__s __are __no __good. _Especially recently, with more and more darkness engulfing the world, causing the divide to flare up even greater than usual. But, the boy was right, stating simply something that perhaps Fred had never allowed to enter his mind before. Had he been naive? Simplistic? Not all Gryffindor's were good, so it stood to reason that not all Slytherin's were evil. If Hogwarts fell to Umbridge and the Ministry, the school would change for everyone, and only the smallest group would benefit. It was obvious that as Slytherin's, it would do students more harm than good to openly oppose what the rest of their house vehemently backed, but that didn't mean they agreed, the same as the Ravenclaw's, the Hufflepuff's and even some Gryffindor's that stayed silent. Shaking his head he made his way to bed, his thoughts filled with the mocha eyes that had defiantly stood up to him and his Gryffindor arrogance, and up to Umbridge and her elitism. He wondered where Blaise thought his ring was, and found his respect rising as he realised that he had turned up to deface Umbridge's office only a night after losing it, not knowing if it had ended up in the hands of the High Inquisitor or not; not knowing if he would be walking straight into a trap or waking up to torture.  
><em>What <em>_a __Gryffindor,_ was Fred's last thought before he drifted off to sleep.

Blaise Zabini awoke the next morning and as the events of the previous night slammed back into his brain, he groaned, thinking that now he was well and truly in trouble. There was no way a Gryffindor, a _Weasley_ one at that, would be able to keep their mouth shut about seeing a Slytherin doing what he was.

He turned over in bed, surprised to see a new envelope on his bedside cabinet. He reached up, surprised at the weight of the envelope. Sitting up in bed, he gingerly prized it open and dropped the contents onto his duvet, wand next to him ready. Startled, it took him a moment to react. He picked up his ring, completely nonplussed, but relief still flooding through him. He turned his attention to the gold object now resting in his lap. He poked it with the tip of his wand, and when nothing became apparent, he held it in his palm.

He smiled softly as the "WWW" became more obvious as the gold heated up, along with the coded message on the back. He thought about the connotations, knowing that his secret was now safe, and looking forward to what his new comrade had planned for later that night.  
><em>What <em>_a __Slytherin, _he thought.

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><p><strong>I hope you enjoyed this story. I'm genuinely sorry for the delay.<strong>


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